How to Be An almost Perfect Wife
by Sasha Feirce
Summary: College students Edward&Bella are recently married.Upon finding the book"How to Be a Perfect Housewife."Bella tries to follow its advice;only to discover she likes their imperfections and happiness more than a clean, quiet home. Series of one shots. AH


**Bella and Edward are recently married, living in an apartment in New York City. Both are students at NYU and Edward is working an internship at the local hospital. Bella finds an old book on how to be a perfect housewife from the 1950s and tries to be just that for her Edward. Through their life together, she realizes how perfect their marriage is, even if she doesn't follow a single rule in that stupid book.**

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_1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal, on time. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed._

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"Bella?" I walked into our small apartment slowly, worn out from class and then the internship down at the hospital.

"Baby, you home yet?" She usually got home much before me on Thursdays, as she only had one class in the afternoon and she didn't work today.

How I wish her working wasn't necessary, it made me feel so guilty that she had to be working so hard at NYU and be working a near full time schedule at the book shop down the street. I should be able to provide for her, as her husband. And soon I would, this internship would certainly pay off. It had too.

"Bella? Are you okay? It smells like something's burning."

I ran through our cluttered space towards the kitchen, finding what I would have least expected.

"DAMN IT ALL TO HELL! FUCKING STUPID OVEN!"

Bella. Even ranting and freaking out in her sweats, she took my breath away. All curves and beauty.

She was standing in front of the oven, obviously defeated, cursing what looked to be a chicken.

"SON OF A BITCH! I DON'T EVEN LIKE FUCKIN' CHICKEN!" She continued to stare down the poultry, not having noticed me there yet in her fit of rage.

I took a quiet step towards her, in hopes of saving her from doing something rash in her battle against the smoking chicken. Then she began quietly talking again.

"It was for Edward. Why did you have to burn, you stupid fucking bird? It was going to be special."

She was upset now, the anger turning quickly to sadness. And that just wasn't okay.

"Bella."

She quickly turned around, messy bun loosening from the crown of her head down to her neck.

"You aren't supposed to see this. I wanted it to be special."

She lowered her head, shaking it from side to side. I took my cue, racing the short distance between us and capturing her in my arms.

"Its okay, Bella, don't be sad. Please don't be sad."

"It burned. I was going to go take a shower, and the oven got to hot because the dial fucking broke and it started smoking."

Her mood was swinging back again, turning sadness into anger. This time directed at the oven instead of the chicken itself. I knew I should be not thinking of this, but I couldn't help but focus on how beautiful her eyes were when they glinted with fury.

"Baby, its okay. I can get takeout or something. It's not a big deal." I kept my voice low, knowing that's what she needed to calm down.

"NO! It is a big deal, Edward. I wanted to cook something nice for my husband, and I can't do anything right. And it fucking pisses me off!"

Jesus. This was not good. Mad Bella is a force to be reckoned with; she was terrifying if she tried to be. _Pissed _Bella was worse.

I wrapped my arms around her waist again, this time from behind as she was glaring at the offensive oven again.

"You do everything right, Bella, you don't have to prove anything to me."

She visibly relaxed back into me, taking a deep breath before she spoke.

"I know I don't have to. I want to. I want to cook for you, and I can't. I want to iron your shirts, and I can't even do that right. I'm such an epic FAIL."

Despite myself, I chuckled at the memory of her trying to iron. The white button down had been too wet, and the old iron too hot; leaving a huge burn mark right in the middle of my chest. It's my favorite shirt to wear now.

"I like your cooking. And I like how you iron. You, my dear, are not an epic fail. Or any kind of fail."

She turned in my arms so she could face me. Her big brown eyes wet with tears waiting to fall.

"I'm sorry I'm not a perfect wife, Edward."

"Love, I don't want perfect. I want you. I'll always want you."

When would she see that? She's everything I'll ever want. Even when she's stressed out in sweatpants and one of my old T-shirts. Even when the house almost catches on fire.

She was still processing what I'd said and I leaned down towards her ear.

_"Baby, you my everything. You all I ever wanted. Somethin', somethin', somethin'. Sweatpants, hairtied, that's when you're the prettiest; I hope that you don't take it wrong."_

I knew it would make her smile, I can't sing or rap for my life, and she still loves to hear it.

"Edward, Honey you are the worst rapper I've ever met."

Ahh, there it was. The smile. My smile. The unshed tears remained unshed, and her beautiful face broke out in a full out grin.

"Such mean words from such a pretty mouth."

The fake pout always made her laugh.

She answered with the laugh that was more beautiful than any sound I'd ever heard.

"Well, we're a good match. You can't rap and I can't cook. Wanna get Chinese?"

I swung her up in my arms, running back towards the door. When I stopped to open the door she leaned up closer to me.

"Thank you. I love you."

Those three words never failed to make me smile. She loved me, more than anyone else. She loved _me._

"As I love you, princess. Now, I challenge you to a chopstick battle."

"I accept your challenge, weak one. You are no match for my warrior skills."

How she kept a straight face when she said things like that, I'll never know. But the straight face never lasted long.

We looked at each other, and I collapsed to the floor in the hallway, bringing her down with me; gasping in laughter.

And that's where we were when the fire department showed up.

"Sir, blame the chicken."

And then we were laughing again. Bella and I, our goofiness a perfect match. A perfect pair.

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AN: so, I suck. I havn't updated my other story in forever, and I'm sorry to thoose people who like reading it. I'm not giving up on that storyline, I'm just low on inspiration. Don't expect frequent updates on this either, its just something I thought of while home on christmas break and I really liked the idea. REVIEW!


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